


World On Fire HIATUS

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adopted Work, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Consensual Underage Sex, Dark Harry Potter, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Intelligent Harry Potter, M/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, Mentor Voldemort, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Mild Sexual Content, Misguided Dumbledore, Necromancer Harry Potter, Necromancer Voldemort, Sane Voldemort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-24 21:35:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16183628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After Sirius dies, a distraught and broken Harry Potter goes to The Dark Lord to ask a very important question. The answer changes everything. A certain Dark Lord and the boy destined to defeat him make a deal that will shake the foundations of the magical world. Over time the two former foes learn earth shattering secrets that bring them closer than they should come while the rest of the world is unknowingly ostracizing a child who no longer knows who he can trust. But just who is part of the horrendous atrocities committed to the savior and who is an innocent bystander unknowingly part of a terrible scheme.Inspired by "We Can All Be Kings And Queens" by Cryptkeeper





	1. WCABK&Q PT1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [We Can All Be Kings And Queens](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5482739) by [Cryptkeeper (orphan_account)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Cryptkeeper). 



> The first two chapters are really just the first two chapters of "We Can All Be Kings And Queens" that I've slightly altered, and therefore this chapter is written, for the most part, by Cryptkeeper... I think. They appear to have either been an amalgamation of never finished adoptions, or they changed their name a lot. I take no credit for this chapter, except what little I changed. I only take credit for the following chapters, because despite "adopting" it VultureLovesong appears to have no plans on actually finishing it, so I will

_**The World On Fire** _

_**Blaire Graves (HoneyLatte)** _

_**Chapter One - WCABK &Q (Part 1)**_ 

* * *

 Voldemort is in his study, drinking tea and going over the many reports of his Death Eaters, when Harry James Potter just appears before him as if he apparated, despite such a thing being an impossibility with the wards Voldemort set. The dark lord had not been expecting anyone, much less his nemesis, so he is dressed in his sleeping clothes and he isn't wearing his glamour, meaning he looks human instead of like some serpentine nightmare. He knows that he should be freaking out over the fact that his enemy is seeing his best kept secret, except the Boy-Who-Lived is shaking and trembling and clearly as surprised to be there as Voldemort is that he is there.

Harry Potter looks like hell warmed over. He looks like he hasn't slept for more than a few nightmare filled hours since the ministry attack two weeks earlier. He is pale as death with dark bruises on his skin and dark circles around his eyes like a raccoon mask. His messy black hair is greasy as Snape's and his usually vividly bright absinthe colored eyes are dull and dead. He isn't even armed, or if he is he is not intent of using his wand, so the Dark Lord keeps his wand ready but not overly threatening as he watches the emotions pass over his face.

"Can you do it?" Harry asks, voice hoarse like he has been screaming.

"Can I do what?" Voldemort questions him, confused, curious.

"My first year, you told me that you could bring my parents back to life." Voldemort sucks in a sharp breath at his words, and before he knows it Harry is up close, so close his breath warms the dark lord's face. His fingers are in tight fists in the fabric of his black silk bathrobe, knuckles white as snow. "Was that a lie to woo a naive child to your side, or can you really do it?"

Voldemort doesn't see any benefit in lying to the boy. He's already broken enough to come to him and, despite appearances, he isn't a complete monster.

"I can." he affirms. "It is a long and arduous process, requiring a great deal of power, time, and sacrifice, but I can do it."

Harry lets him go and collapses on the floor, legs giving up under him, and he starts heaving like he might throw up, or start to cry. The Dark Lord moves to the other side of the desk, actually feeling a bit concerned for his nemesis. The boy looks up, and his startling eyes meet Voldemort's own wine red without fear or hesitation.

"I will join you if you bring them back." he says, and there is no lie in his eyes. "I will do whatever it takes, whatever you want, whatever I have to. Just bring them back, and I swear I will be yours to command."

"You would swear your allegiance to me for your parents, without knowing what you will have to do to make such a thing happen?" He asks incredulously, not only because it seems stupid not to ask for the proper information beforehand to him, but because the only obstacle in his path to wining the war seems to be Harry Potter and the boy is literally swearing is allegiance at his feet.

It's surreal.

"Not just my parents. I want you to bring back Lily Evans-Potter, James Potter, and Sirius Black." the almost sixteen year old states, calm as you please, and he stands up on shaking legs. "No one else. I won't be selfish or greedy. I won't ask anything else of you. I won't demand you leave certain people alone, or ask that you stop this war, or demand that you do this in some clean and light way. I know what I am asking is going require that I do horrible things and taint my soul. I know they won't ever forgive me for it, but I can't live without them. I will do anything to get them back. I would get on my knees and beg you if I must. Just please, Please, bring them back. That is all I ask."

Voldemort nods. "Okay. I will expect an unbreakable vow in the morning." he says. "But right now you need to get sleep."

"But-" The Dark Lord holds up a hand to silence him.

"Potter, I am not kidding when I say this is a long and difficult ritual. We won't be finished preparing until sometime around Yule break." he informs the boy. "You will have to spend all your free time assisting me, and we will have to find a way that we can continue after you start school again. I can't have you fainting during the ritual. You can sleep in my bedroom tonight, and I will have my one of my house elves make you a room tomorrow. Tomorrow after you have eaten we can start, but I will not start until I am certain you have the strength required. That is final."

"Yes Sir, er, My lord? Umm, How do I address you?" he asks meekly.

Voldemort sighs. "You may call me by my birth name when we are alone I suppose, considering you are privy to my secret." he gestures to his human looks. "If and when we are around others I will expect you to be disguised so my followers don't try anything considering your identity. I will provide a disguise so don't stress over that, but you must pick a name you can remember. During this time you will address me as the Dark Lord or My Lord. I will introduce you in a way that should have them aware that you are off limits, but for now you will have no contact with the Death Eaters so you don't have to worry. However, should you come across one of my followers I expect you to behave accordingly and you may never reveal that I can look any differently or that you are on my side. They know not to kill Harry Potter unless they themselves want death, so you may attack if you are in a situation that your identity is compromised. Your identity is one of the things you can offer, as I believe my spy is a traitor, and I am in need of a new one. Do you understand?"

"Yes." he answers with a nod.

When he looks hesitant the Dark Lord arches an eyebrow. "What is it? Never be afraid to speak your mind when we are alone."

"It's just that you look like you did as Tom Riddle, a bit older yeah, but when you came back you looked like a snake. I just was wondering how this happened?" Harry answers.

The Dark Lord nods stiffly. "That is a very long story for another time." he says. "You may remind me one day to explain everything to you. For now I will tell you that I did some horrible magic in my youth that split my soul and tainted me in ways that I foolishly overlooked. I rectified this problem with a ritual shortly after my rebirth, so you needn't worry about it for now. Bed child."

Harry nods. "I, er that is, I don't know the way." he flushes cherry red when Voldemort arches and eyebrow imperiously at him.

The Dark Lord stands and opens his study door. "Come on Potter."

They walk down the hall to a door at the end, which the Dark Lord opens. It is a grand bedroom, but decorated sparsely in black and silver. "Sleep child. Call Doxi when you wake and she will bring you to the breakfast hall after you are dressed."

"Thank you." Harry whispers.

Voldemort nods stiffly. He stays long enough to watch the teen snuggle down into the black covers, then he shuts the door, wondering what his life has become, and pretending he can't hear the boy crying.

His tea is cold when he gets back to the study.

\--

Harry wakes up groggy, disoriented, and unsure of where he is. He puts on his glasses and looks around. Then it all comes crashing back like a freight train. He was in his room, trying to fight off Vernon, and he wished to he somewhere safe. His magic sent him to Voldemort's lair, just his luck, and he suddenly remembered what he had said in first year. It's surreal to think that he is now on the same side as Tom Riddle, Voldemort, the most feared Dark Lord in centuries.

Just yesterday he was light, and now he is condemning himself to the dark.

"Doxi?" he calls out after remembering the instructions he was given last night. A house elf with huge purple eyes in a very clean pale green tea cozy pops in.

"Master say yous be callin' Doxi in morning." she says. "Doxi is to tell yous that yous can have the clothes in the clothes in the bottom drawer in Master's dresser. Doxi takes Master Harry to the dinner hall for breakfast as soon as he is dressed."

"Thank you." he says politely, and he walks over to the ebony dresser.

In the bottom drawer are a set of very nice clothes in his size. He feels silly as he dresses up in the fine clothes; an ironed white button up dress shirt, black tie, a black vest with silver buttons, and black slacks; because nothing he does tames his licorice black hair, then he follows the house elf to the breakfast hall, where Tom Riddle is sitting primly at the table eating what looks like a chicken salad sandwich as he bows over a stack of papers.

"Good afternoon." there is a grandfather clock pointing to three in the afternoon.

"Good afternoon." he answers. "Sorry I slept so long."

"Don't be stupid." he still doesn't look up. "You needed the sleep. Eat, and when you are done I will need you to accompany me to Knocturne Alley for some potions ingredients and other items of a delicate nature for the ritual. While we are there we will be making a stop in Diagon Alley and getting you a proper wardrobe because I refuse to be seen with you if you look like an uneducated pauper. Our last stop will be where I hid a very special heirloom that I will require for the ritual. You must, and this is vitally important, you must not put it on for any reason. No matter what. Is that understood."

"Of course Riddle." he doesn't argue even though he does not understand. He knows that his parents and Sirius are depending on him being a good follower for Voldemort. So far he hasn't even been ordered to do anything horrible yet. "Hey, won't it be bad for you and I to be seen. I am supposed to be in my room not allowed to leave, and won't Dumbledore recognize you?"

He does look quite a bit like his old self. Tall, lean, and pale with angular features and cheekbones you could cut yourself on. He looks twenty, twenty-five at most, with dark crimson eyes instead of the obsidian black of sixteen year old Tom Riddle, and his hair is longer, just brushing his shoulders in the back, and it falls into his face a little. Riddle chuckles at his question as if he doesn't think it will be a problem, then he blinks and when he opens his eyes they are dark steely grey instead of wine red.

"You do realize that helps nothing." Harry points out, unimpressed. "Now you look more like your old self."

Riddle smirks. "Ah, but I am not trying to change my appearance." he says cryptically. "When we are in public I will be known as Thomas Rose."

"Rose?" Harry questions.

"It is a very common pure blood and muggle surname. They are a neutral family and it is difficult to disprove anyone who claims to be of this family. It was better than Gaunt, which is my mother's surname and my original choice." he answers. "I took the time to make myself another identity before I heard of the prophecy. I had been on the verge of taking over the ministry, and I needed an identity that could be respected. I had to change the birth year and which of the Rose female heirs I was using as my mother after the debacle with you defeating me and setting my plans back thirteen years, but it was easier than trying to create a new identity."

Harry nods sheepishly. "Sorry."

Riddle snorts. "No you are not."

"No, but it is polite to apologise." he agrees, then claps his hands together. "Now, Thomas Rose. Who is he? I assume you have a full background, knowing you."

"You assume correctly." he looks rather proud of himself. "Thomas Magnus Rose is a lesser heir of the Rose family. My mother died giving birth to me, and I grew up in muggle foster care after my father died when I was twelve. I was home schooled and I took my OWLs and NEWTs at the ministry. I have spent the last few years travelling and learning." he pauses. "Now, if anyone looks deep enough they will see that I am the son of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Marianne Rose, my false mother, really did die in childbirth. Her child died with her, but she is dead, and thus can't confirm or deny anything. And you would be hard pressed to find more than a few people who actually know that Tom Riddle is myself. While it could be weird for you to be hanging around _Voldemort's son_ it is the identity I have for myself when I want to get out away from my followers."

The Boy-Who-Lived nods. "Well I guess if anyone gives you hassle I can get really offended on your behalf." he says, then grinning turns to an imaginary person and puts on a hurt and angry face. "How dare you judge him on the actions of his father? Tomas is a good man and he is nothing like his father." he grins.

"Very convincing." Riddle mocks. "Now if you are quite finished we should get going if you want to start today. Eat something."

Harry steals half of his sandwich and doesn't get cursed.


	2. WCABK&Q

_**World On Fire** _

_**Blaire Graves (HoneyLatte)** _

_**Chapter Two - WCABK &Q (PT 2)** _

* * *

 

Shopping with someone who only yesterday was hell-bent on your death and destruction is a very odd experience.

Harry thought he had been kidding when Riddle said he was going to make Harry get a new wardrobe, but here they are in the third clothing shop in an hour, with Harry running dumbfounded after the Dark Lord as he grabs random things off shelves and hangers and throws them in his direction without giving Harry a choice in what he is grabbing. If Harry weren't such a good seeker all of the clothes would probably be on the ground, but it doesn't look like Riddle gives even a single fuck about it. In fact, if Harry didn't find it such an odd thought, he would probably think Riddle is having fun throwing stuff at him. It is a ridiculous thought.

"Do I really need this much clothes?" He asks. He has been holding off on asking, but he can no longer sit back quietly when Riddle throws four identical black robes over his ever growing pile.

"Yes." He answers in a tone the suggests he thinks Harry is an idiot. "In case it hasn't been clear this whole time these are completely different wardrobes. Some of these are everyday clothes, while others should only be worn during formal occasions, battle robes, and ritual robes. And it would go a lot faster if you would help instead of following after me like a drooling neanderthal."

"I was raised by muggles." Riddle glares at him, and it is almost impressive that he manages to make it just as scary when his eyes are grey instead of red. "I'm just saying, the only clothes I've had were hand-me-downs and school robes. I can't tell the differences to be honest. Also, would it kill you to add a little color in here. Unlike you I do wear other colors than grey, white, and black."

"You are fucking useless." Riddle snarls. "And I find that hard to believe. To hear Snape tell it you are a pampered spoiled brat who gets everything he wants."

Harry snorts. "Snape hates my guts because he and my father had a petty rivalry that was exasperated by house differences and a mutual love of the same woman." he tells the dark lord. "My father and his friends were bullies, but Snape was just as bad. The only difference is that my dad eventually changed, and Snape is still the same child-scaring bullying jerk he was when he was a sixth year. I'd wouldn't take anything Snape says about me at face value if I were you."

"And how would you define your relationship with your muggle relatives then?" Riddle asks, dragging him to the front so they can pay for the clothes.

"I was a magical child in a house full of magic-hating muggles. They stuck me inside a boot cupboard until my Hogwarts letter came in." He snorts. "You do the math."

\--

"So what is that?" Potter asks.

Tom lets out a long suffering sigh and bats Potter's hands away from the glass display case.

"That is a very rare book on sex magic." He informs, and the boy turns a shade of red formerly only found on over-ripe strawberries. "Quit blushing like a virgin sacrifice and don't touch anything in here. That very book you were about to stick your grubby fingers all over has a flesh eating curse on the cover. Of course if you would like to watch your hand rot off like it is melting then please be my guest. It would be amusing to watch at the very least."

The boy pouts. "I thought we called a truce. You're very rude."

"And you are very annoying, but you don't see me pouting about it." he answers back, perhaps a bit childishly. "Why am I even bothering with helping you again?"

"Because you're insane." Potter mocks. "Don't ask me to try and decipher the crazy thoughts in your head."

"I wouldn't be in this situation if you had never been born." Tom mutters under his breath.

Potter's eyes flash with mischief, and there is a warm light in his eyes, which is actually a relief because his dulled dead eyes were actually starting to freak him out a bit. "You wouldn't be in this situation if you didn't believe in a crack pot prophecy when you hadn't even heard the full thing."

Tom glares but doesn't get to respond because the shop keep finally comes out. "What can I get you gentlemen?" The shopkeepers eyes get very wide as he goes through his list, and Tom suspects at least part of that is because of his request for three human skulls. "That will be 716 galleons, 12 sickles, and 13 knuts."

Tom pulls out his money and pays, then looks up when he hears a yelp. Potter is holding his bleeding rotting arm with a look of horrified awe. "I thought you were kidding!"

"Cernunnos help me!" The dark lord curses and grabs Harry by the wrist. "What part of don't touch the flesh eating book is so hard to understand?"

"I was curious." he answers.

Tom pinches the bridge of his nose. "This kind of stupidity is why I am a Dark Lord." He mutters, but he reverse the curse easily enough, and Potter flexes his no longer rotting fingers with an appreciative look. "Hands in your pockets."

"But-" Potter starts.

"Hands in your pockets or you can go to the corner and sit in time-out!" He snarls. The teenager shoves his hands petulantly in his pockets. "Salazar knows how you've managed to survive this long."

\--

Harry follows the dark lord to a ... hovel.

It is a few seconds before Harry can actually see the building half-hidden among the tangle of trunks. It seems to him a very strange location to choose for a house, or else an odd decision to leave the trees growing nearby, blocking all light and the view of the valley below. Its walls are mossy and so many tiles have fallen off the roof that the rafters are visible in places. Nettles grow all around it, their tips reaching the windows, which are tiny cracked and thick with grime and dust.

He also briefly thinks it's a good thing they had Doxi and Fidget take the bags back to the Manor, because they would look quite odd with their bags bobbing behind them in a muggle village. "This is the hiding spot for the oh so mysterious family heirloom we desperately need for the ritual?" He asks with a dubious look at the dilapidated shack.

"Yes." Riddle replies tersely. "Come on."

"I'm not going in there!" Harry protests. "Look at it. I'm not risking the asbestos or tetanus or whatever else is in there."

Riddle's answering glare is not as scary when he expects it. "If you are quite finished, Potter, you are coming with me because _" He doesn't finish, just grabs Harry by the wrist and hauls him out of sight behind some trees.

"Wha-" Riddle puts a hand over his mouth and points.

Albus Dumbledore is strolling down the road to the shack, whistling a jaunty tune, in egg yolk yellow robes that hurt his eyes to look at. He goes into the shack after staring at it with a shudder, and from inside Harry sees some flashing lights and hears a lot of rummaging. Ten minutes later he comes out with what Harry thinks in a ring, and obviously is something very important because Riddle's grip tightens around his wrist to the point white-hot searing pain shoots up his arm, but luckily his pained yelp is muffled by Riddle's hand on his mouth. Dumbledore disappears with a pop and Riddle lets him go.

"Fuck I think you broke my arm!" He hisses.

"Suck it up." Riddle glares at him.

"What's your problem?" Harry growls.

"You're such an idiot. You don't get it." He seethes.

"No I don't. So Explain instead of being an asshole." Harry snarls back at him.

"That ring is what we are here for." Riddle snarls at him. "The stone at the top is crystallized Dementor heart. It has the ability to call the souls of the dead back to the Earth, at great price to both the spirit and the user. It also happens to hold a piece of my own fucking soul, like that diary you might recall fell into your hands in your second year, and now Dumbledore has it. Do you get it now?"

"Fuck." Harry breathes.

"The only good that came out of this is that now there is a slow acting flesh-eating curse on Dumbledore that will kill him by the time the year is out." Riddle says viciously. "But now getting that ring is going to be your first priority. Your job is to get that ring when school starts back up, because while we can still set up everything else, that ring is the only way we are getting the exact souls we need."


	3. Summer's End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or the start of what was actually written by me

_**World On Fire** _

_**Blaire Graves (HoneyLatte)** _

_**Chapter Three -  Summer's End** _

* * *

 

Harry sort of expects his summer to be filled with horrible rituals or dark arts training but, despite the excitement of his first few days with Riddle, the summer passes quickly without much more excitement. Riddle is mostly too busy with preparations and dark lord business to really spend any time with Harry, and he tries not to be as disappointed as he is by that. Harry for the most part spends his days playing on his broom and throwing rocks up in the air, only to dive after them, and reading dark arts books in the library or doing his homework.

By the time the last day of August rolls around, Harry is honestly so bored with the waiting game that he starts seriously debating how bad it would be for them if he just stabbed Dumbledore with a quill and stole the ring from his corpse. He knows he needs to do something soon with as dark as his thoughts are getting, because Dumbledore hasn't really ever wronged Harry, despite his misguided machinations and leaving him to the Dursleys mercies. He's spending too much time in the phantom presence of a dark lord.

"It's your fault." He tells Riddle at lunch, because for once he's actually there.

Riddle is in the middle of Death Eater reports, which usually take up his whole attention, so Harry isn't really expecting him to hear or answer him. It's why it's as shocking as it is when he looks up with an arched eyebrow, eyes glinting like fresh spilled blood in the light. "I beg your pardon?"

Harry flushes so brightly he's certain he looks sunburned. Riddle just looks very amused by this. "I want to stab Dumbledore." He answers. "I've decided it's your fault."

Riddle snorts. "Oh is that so?" his voice is teasing, almost flirtatious Harry thinks, but he dismisses the idea as soon as it pops up. "And what can I do to help you with this tragic problem?"

"I dunno." Harry lets himself slump down in the chair. "I'm bored."

"You go to school tomorrow." Riddle points out.

"I know." Harry whines. "I need something to distract me until then though."

Riddle calls in Doxi, then asks her something. When the elf comes back she's carrying a book, at least six inches thick with black leather binding decorated in intricate golden swirls. It has no title that Harry can see, and Riddle slides it over to Harry curious Harry opens it to a random page, and promptly slams it shut turning red as an over ripe tomato.

"Is this a sex book?" He hisses.

"It's a necromancy book." Riddle rolls his eyes. "Although some necromancy is based in amoremancy, so you probably stumbled on one of those rituals. I marked a couple chapters for you which you'll need to read if you want to be any help with the rituals."

Harry cautiously flips to the first marked chapter and reads a couple lines. It seems to be a beginners guide to necromancy. He flips to the next. Summoning souls. The third details a ritual that looks really complicated, and the fourth looks even more complicated than the third did. He flips back to the first mark. "Anything I can do to help when I'm done reading?"

Riddle shakes his head. "I've already got the skulls soaking in the potion. We can't really do anything until we get the ring. You can take that book with you tomorrow, but keep it in your hidden compartment."

Once again Harry debates stabbing Dumbledore. He never was patient. Still, at least this book gives him something to do, and he can take it with him as long as he keeps it, and his other darker books, in the hidden compartment of his new trunk. It is warded so that he can sneak dark artifacts or books through the wards of Hogwarts. Harry thinks this is probably a good thing, because he's got a lot to learn before Halloween, and a lot more to learn by Yule.

Harry shakes himself. No reason to sit like a lump, every second wasted is another minute his parents and godfather sit in the realm of the dead. If reading a lot of books and learning a lot of dark magic will bring them home, then Harry will be the best student Voldemort could ask for. He begins to read.

_Necromancy was originally a form of magic used only to summon the souls of the dead for conversation, but as the craft grew it began to also mean magic with which the dead could be brought back to life..._

\--

Harry James Potter leaves for the train the next morning with a heavy heart and keen reluctance. On one hand, he is grateful to be going back to school, Hogwarts has always been his home, and he's excited to know he's that much closer to getting the ring from Dumbledore. That said, he also has to face his friends, knowing he can not tell them that he's turned dark side. Hermione and Ron might understand, they might even be willing to accept it, but Harry can not take that risk.

Still, no time to dwaddle. He pushes his trolley directly at the solid barrier to the platform, where the scarlet Hogwarts Express sits on the tracks, belching steam over the crowd. Hermione and the Weasleys, Ron and Ginny in any case, join him within seconds, seemingly coming from thin air. Without warning Ron and Hermione grab him by the arms and drag him up the platform, looking for an empty compartment.

"Where were you this summer?" Hermione hisses. "Dumbledore went to pick you up and you'd completely vanished!"

Harry pales. He had not expected that. "It's complicated." He lies, trying to think up a lie. "I'll explain on the way."

“We can’t, Harry,” say Hermione, looking apologetic. “Ron and I’ve got to go to the prefects’ carriage first and then patrol the corridors for a bit.”

Harry blinks. "Oh right. I forgot."

Ron nods. "Sorry mate."

"Don't be. I'm the one who forgot." He smiles, genuine, then even bigger as he realizes he now has much longer to think up a reason for his absence. Voldemort taught him occulmancy over the summer, and he's confident he'll be able to convince them, and more importantly Dumbledore, of whatever he comes up with. "I'll tell you where I went tonight, okay?"

They seem reluctant, but they both agree and leave him to his thoughts. Before Ron leaves, with Hermione out of earshot, the ginger leans close to Harry. "One last thing." He whispers. "Keep an eye out for Malfoy. I think he replaced his father as a death eater."

He's gone before Harry can say anything. Riddle certainly never mentioned it if he is, but Harry decides he'll write later an ask. Alone with his thoughts, Harry starts debating how he can explain his absence as he searches for a compartment. People stare at him as he walks by them, and a giggling group of girls follows him like a pack of drooling hyenas. He had expected an upswing in the amount of gaping and gawping he would have to endure this term after all the “Chosen One” rumors in the Daily Prophet, but he did not enjoy the sensation of standing in a very bright spotlight. He sees Luna up ahead, and Harry makes his way to her.

"Luna!" He greets. The girl turns to look at him and her pale blonde hair swings around her face as she does. Her normal long hair has been cut short into a just longer than chin length bob, wavy curls caressing her face. "I like your hair."

"Thanks." She smiles. "I like yours."

Riddle had taken the time to help Harry cut and style his own hair, and its now a long undercut sort of style, still messy as always but looking much better. "Thanks." He returns. "Fancy finding a compartment?"

Luna grins and nods. "I already have one with Neville." She says. "But you can join us."

Harry grins widely. "Nothing would please me more."


End file.
